The bird
Birds have a posture
Something they do on the ground
That puts them in touch with their heart
Their joy
Their youth
The present moment tells them to search for food
But they are trapped into something old
Sitting in their mother's nest
Maybe this land has no rest
Just flying from tree to tree
Beeking the air
He knows he's the bird
Something they do on the ground
That puts them in touch with their heart
Their joy
Their youth
The present moment tells them to search for food
But they are trapped into something old
Sitting in their mother's nest
Maybe this land has no rest
Just flying from tree to tree
Beeking the air
He knows he's the bird
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While I was waiting for the workman when I had a flat tire I observed this bird
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The bird
PoetLisa Solinga
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Costume, Heart, Emperor
PoetLisa Solinga
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